


This Is The End

by Neferit



Series: The End [1]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Male Friendship, Mentions of Rape, mentions of non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:59:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neferit/pseuds/Neferit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'He asked for it' or 'he had it coming' they think. But when are the things the way as they seem at the first sight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is The End

**Author's Note:**

> So, obviously I had been reading way too many angst – and reading way too many kmeme full-of-angst-and-hurt prompts. So, here’s the idea – Jim had been sexually assaulted. Being the ladies man, he’s not being taken seriously, when he shows walking funny, with lots of bruises and hickeys. And this is where this fanfiction starts.

 

You wake up slowly and that is what raises alarms in your head. You never wake slowly. Waking up is always, no matter how hard you drank the night before or how long you went without sleep, a quick process. Opening one’s eyes, mind already rushing to something. The fact that your mind is foggy, that you can’t remember what the hell you did the night before… Your whole body, your ass, hurts. You are naked, your wrist and ankles raw and angry red.  
  
Then the little you remember slowly comes to you. Bar. Talking to some patrons. Flirting with the barmaid. Some friendly-looking guy sits next to you… and then just fog and painful morning. The insides of your thighs are sticky, when you try to sit up your muscles protest the movement with a wave of pain. There is a strange aftertaste in your mouth, almost making you to choke on it.  
  
Forcing the pain down, you stumble out of the bed and into the bathroom. Sight in the mirror is enough to give you pause. You got into your share of bar fights, you had your share of not-so-gentle sex – but you never ended looking like this. The fact that you are sore from obviously having sex you do not remember to consent to, with someone you do not remember (you know for sure that the three beers you had in bar couldn’t make you forget absolutely everything) means one thing – you obviously had been _forced_ to have sex.  
  
The realization hits you with force of a truck. Your whole body starts to tremble uncontrollably and only Bones’ drill at how to fight panic attacks stops you from hyperventilating. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. In. And out. It makes you feel even sicker when you realize how easily these two innocent words – in and out – can be used to describe sex. You yourself used to tease Bones about that when he was drilling some medical training into you and he always gave you his patented scowl and smacked you.  
  
Bones. He’s your friend, who may grumble over you more than often enough – but always had been there for you. He will help you, you think, while you are struggling to put your clothes on. It comes as a bit of a surprise that all your things are there, clothes neatly folded on a chair, boots standing nearby, and comm lying on the drawer. The guy standing at reception desk gives you strange look as you limp by, his lips twisting in a grimace you prefer not to try to decipher.  
  
Snapping your comm open, you ask for beaming up, your voice raspy from something you do not remember. You notice the knowing glances from Scotty as you step down from the transport pad, leaving without saying anything. The doors close behind you – but not sooner than you hear “well, looks like someone got wee bit of a night, eh?” You understand the remark was not meant in a bad  way – but it still makes you wince.  
  
The Enterprise is still mostly empty, so you meet only handful of crewmen – yet all of them just take a look at you and either start snickering or roll their eyes on you. It’s not hard to decipher what they are thinking – but a part of you can almost hear what they are in all probability thinking. _‘Looks like the Captain had it coming’_ is what they think, not knowing the truth. And it stings, their presumption they know you. They know nothing, least of all what kind of person you truly are. When some of them pat you on the shoulder, winking at you, you have to fight the urge to flinch away from their touch.  
  
As you expected, the good doctors starts bitching at how the hell did you manage to get yourself so beaten up, and _damit_ , Jim, what did I told you about not getting in the fight as soon as he lays his eyes on you. Your silence at his grumbling stops him, when he takes one more look at you and knows something bad, _bad_ happened to you, and it wasn’t just getting your ass handed to you on a silver platter. And so you spill at him the little you remember, Bones listening carefully, his eyes shining in the white light of the sickbay.  
  
“I will have to collect evidence, Jim,” he says when you finish. Panic twists your guts, and only his careful hold of your shoulders and quiet voice urging you to breathe slowly calms you down again. He takes you to one of the private examination rooms and motions you to place yourself on the biobed. You are nervous, and Bones takes on it easily. “Would you prefer, if I fetched Chapel to examine you?”  
  
“No,” you say quickly. It’s not that you do not trust Chapel – but she’s not Bones, the only person in the universe who always accepted you, even if he grumbled about some of your personality perks all the time. He nods, as he closes doors behind him, laying the ‘rape kit’ on the biobed.  
  
You are trembling when he snaps the gloves on, talking to you all the time. “I’m going to remove your shirt now”, “I’m going to take a sample of your saliva – open your mouth, please”, “stand, please, I need to take photographs of your injuries.”His voice is still the same gentle drawl he always spoke, his touch is careful and soothing, yet you are taut the whole time he collects the necessary evidence from your body. Through the several hours long examination you do not say a single word, following instructions from Bones and nodding or shaking your head in response to his questions.  
  
Finally the examination is on its end, leaving you exhausted and taut. Your clothes are placed in special envelopes, as are all the swabs with collected fluids. You are once again sitting on the biobed, Bones presence solid in front of you, as he prepares things to treat the worst of your injuries. You made him promise you to not tell anyone, to encrypt the data so only he, the CMO, Captain and then the ‘fleet heads will be able to view the file. ‘I myself will tell those whom I think should know,’ you said. Bones pursed his lips, but nodded his agreement in the end. The instruments are slowly regenerating damaged tissue while Bone goes to bring you the change of off-duty clothing you have stored in sickbay, after your many tours there.  
  
Some of the bruising as well as the pain in your butt would need another session with dermal regenerator. One of the most prominent is on your neck, placed so you won’t be able to hide it under your clothing – the dermal regenerator made it look like a hickey, which definitely will not work in your favour.  
  
Your hypothesis is proved correct when you come to the bridge on Alpha shift. Spock turns to greet you and you can see his eyebrow rising in what could be described displeasure, if Spock had been human, as his eyes fell on the bruise on your neck. He doesn’t comment on it – but the way he holds himself even straighter could tell whole stories. Hikaru and Chekov just roll their eyes when they spot you.  
  
Uhura is not so silent. “Can’t you at least keep these things outside your job, _Captain_?” she hisses as you walk by. Part of you flinches at the tone of her voice. It suggested she still views you as the lowlife who is not really worthy of her attention, even if your relationship was becoming slightly better – from the icy-cold to lukewarm at best. Part of you wonders whether this Princess Freezer warms up any given time but part of you doubt that.  
  
The whole feel of shame is doubled when you attempt to sit on the captain chair and hiss in pain. Damn. You feel everyone’s eyes on you again, see the frowns and rolled eyes. If anyone notices you slumping in your chair, or being less talkative, they keep silent, mostly just keeping to themselves, working, taking quietly to each other or glaring at you. It’s almost the end of the shift, replacements coming any minute, when you attempt to tell them what happened to you.  
  
It started when you rose from the chair and said: “Alright guys, about the last night…” only to be shot down by Spock saying: “In all due respect, Captain, I believe that your personal affairs should remain that – personal.”  
  
It’s almost like a slap to you. This is the friendship of epic proportions the Old Spock was telling you about? That’s when the replacement shift arrives. You do not really wait for your replacement to relieve you as you almost run from the bridge to your rooms, the limp worsened by the fact you sat down for so long without moving, your muscles stiffened by lack of activity. You try to act as if nothing was really happening, nodding to the salutes your crew gives you, and trying not to notice the amused smirks they flash your way when you come closer to them. Arrival to your quarters is like return to somewhere where are no people who think themselves better than you. The few times you have to venture outside the sanctum of your quarters make you feel watched. Watched, judged and found lacking.  
  
It’s no better next few days. Every time you try to breach the subject, people start to avoid you like plague, have something to entertain them instead of listening to you or shoot you down immediately. The secret is heavy on you, making you troubled. Part of you wants to just blurt “I wasn’t whoring myself as you think – I was raped” but the other part of you always stops you from actually saying that aloud. Would Scotty still give you winks and “someone had a good nite, eh?” Would Chekov and Sulu still exchange amused glances? Would Uhura still hiss at you to keep things like that off of your on duty time? Would Spock still tell you to keep private affairs private? Would your crew still pat you on your shoulder, giving you amused smirks? Would they even care?  
  
The situation is becoming worse by each day, by each hour. You are unable to sleep properly, as your mind starts to remember what happened to you that fateful night. You tell Bones, who just nods thoughtfully, adding that to the file he created after your examination was finished before. He’s there to offer his shoulder for you to lean on, to keep you company during the lunchtime, he starts to come up to your rooms to keep you company, he even starts to sleep on the couch in your quarters, just so you wouldn’t wake up alone in the middle of the night, having mother of all panic attacks (which happened already – thank goodness for the fact that the comm is not far from your bed).  
  
And then comes the day when Bones says “Jim, I think you should report it.”  
  
“No,” you say, your stomach rebelling at the very notion of telling what the hell is happening to you. But later, you know you have to do something about that. Your command is becoming increasingly compromised, as you are tired and tense all the time. Time for decision has come.  
  
Bones is with you, holding your hand tightly, when you comm Pike. His face lightens up in surprise when he sees you. “Jim! To what do I owe the pleasure?” It only takes “Chris, I need your help” to darken the mood. He listens, as only Bones did before, to what happened to you, his eyes shining the same light as Bones’ did.  
  
When you finish, he asks: “And what can I do for you, Jim?” And you tell him the plan you made with Bones. The ‘rape kit’ used for your examination had been tested – the sample of your blood had been successfully tested for gamma-hydroxybutyrate and the database showed match with several other cases of rape. Someone needs to gather more evidence – hear the witnesses, such as the barmaid and the guy at hotel reception desk and preferably take recordings from security cameras, if available for that date. And last but not least – help to survive the trial.  
  
Chris is writing the list of things to do down, when he looks up and asks: “Jim, not that I am unwilling to help – but why not to ask your crew for help?”  
  
It’s Bones who tells him how the things are here, you sitting there with your head hung down in shame, cheeks aflame. Bones, as well as Chris know that the rumours about your sleeping all around Academy campus are very, very overrated – but the crew believes what it believes, and in this case it’s the rumours. Not even several months of serving together can change their opinion of you. For them, you are the one who would sleep with everything that moves (even if during the last few shore leaves you only went to have some drinks and maybe dance a little before returning back to ship. It almost makes you sing the old Earth song from 20th century – what did the singer sing there? Oh yes, _‘This lad has changed, I had calmed down…’_ Why did no one believed you?)  Admiral seems to be taken aback with that, cursing profoundly for a moment before you interrupt him.  
  
“Chris,” you say before you can take it back again, “I want you to relieve me of command due to me being compromised.”  
  
There. The words are hanging between the three of you like the proverbial elephant in the room.  After few moments of complete silence Chris asks whether you are completely sure. And yes, you are; now that you got that out of your chest, you even feel lighter. Bones just gives you his patented scowl and grumbles: “Make that resignation for the ship CMO, too, Admiral – someone needs to keep an eye on him.”  
  
From then, things finally start to move. You are still plagued by nightmares and occasional panic attack – but stares and whispering of your crewmembers no longer bother you as much. Only few more days, you think, only few more days and you won’t know what hit them. You will have your closure and other people will be little safer. You are recommended a lawyer, just in case – Chris recommends you guy who is as quirky as you can be. Samuel T. Cogley.  He says that computers are crap and the law is stored in paper books – when you talk to him through the comm, he gives off impression of man who knows what he is doing and is doing it well. He already made the first inquiries about the witnesses and security cameras recordings, setting things into motion.  
  
When you are passing the New Vulcan colony, Chris comes aboard – outwardly on inspection, to relieve you of command in reality. You are at the bridge when he casually suggests he would like to see the good doctor McCoy and you immediately call Bones from sickbay. That’s when the other phase of your plan starts. Chris moves his wheelchair in front of you and says formally: “Captain Kirk, I relieve you.” And during the surprised gasps you rise from the Captain chair and nod: “I’m relieved.” Bones just hands him PADD with his resignation and both of you go pack your things, Chris handing the conn to Spock so he can accompany you, to ensure no one will bother you while you go to the shuttle bay to take his ship for a quick trip to Earth. Everything is already prepared; the evidence collected – but the rapists got damn good lawyers, too, and decided to make this world-wide affair, only timely intervention by Starfleet Command makes the final law suit private and not public.  
  
First to testify is the barmaid from the bar you went to that day. She is nervous – but when asked about what she can say about the evening, she tells that you had three beers total, were chatting with her pleasantly for quite some time (the business had been slow that particular evening) – and were actually nice to her, complimenting her smile – which was why she remembered you so clearly – when some other guy came in, sat next to you and started a conversation before becoming increasingly friendlier, while you just politely responded to him. She then went to resupply some bottles and when she came back, you were already gone – but she didn’t really think of it, as you paid for your drinks before.  
  
Next to testify had been the guy from hotel reception. He said that he thought you were drunk as skunk since two men had to half-carry you to the hotel. He mentioned them saying something about “mate, you really should stop drinking so much, it’s bad for you” – but as they left towards the morning, looking very pleased with themselves, yourself limping in the morning out of the hotel, he just thought you three had a good night.  
  
You are asked to testify, as well as the two accused. They try to play it on “he was asking for it” note – but are quickly shot down by the analysis of your blood sample. “His blood showed traces of alcohol, yes,” says Bones, when he’s asked to come to witness place. “It corresponded with having three beers several hours ago. It also showed quite a high level of gamma-hydroxybutyrate. It can be used to treat insomnia or depression - but neither I, nor any other doctor at _Enterprise_ , had prescribed it to Jim.”  
  
The rest of the trial is almost unreal to you, the overwhelming sense of closure as they are deemed guilty by the jury. Starfleet applies information embargo on the whole process, but some newspaper articles still appear. “The hero comes out – I have been raped” is one of them. The article is not very specific – just states that you had been raped by two men while on shore leave and after some time decided to press the charges. And public wants to know more.  
  
The Starfleet PR almost forces you into public statement, into a press conference no less. You spend way too long time by answering bullshit question, which are wearing your patience thin. You do not want to be there, where everyone can see you, can pity you. It’s not until the very last question is announced that one journalist, young and perky woman, finally gathers her courage and asks: “According to statistics from past centuries, most of the rapes were not reported, because the victim was afraid no one would believe them and that the public will say ‘they asked for it’ – could you explain your view of this?”  
  
The supposed representative of Starfleet PR tries to stop the question by saying the conference is at its end but you almost wrestle the microphone from her and send a grin full of irony the journalist’s way. “My point of view, Miss…?”  
  
She blushes. “Alissa Simeon.”  
  
You nod your acknowledgement. “The answer to your question, Miss Simeon, would be that the statement is absolutely correct. Unlike popular belief, _no one_ is asking to be drugged and raped. _I_ ,” you pause and scan the room with your eyes, noting how uncomfortable looking some of the journalist became, “did not ask to be drugged and raped. I didn’t want to report it at all,” you confess, lowering your voice, “if my friends Leonard ad Christopher didn’t stand by me, I _wouldn’t_ report it at all. But we reported it and it showed that the rapists had quite long history of rapes behind them. And now they were finally proven guilty and people are safe from them. But one thing troubles me – how many more people are hiding they were hurt because no one around them is willing to step down from their high horses and help them?”  
  
With that, you yourself end the conference, uncaring about the pandemonium you started. Bones is waiting in the ready room, where he watched the whole conference on a small monitor, so he would be ready to rush to your rescue if needed.  He gives you one of his rare little smiles as he hands you your jacket, slowly laying his arm around your shoulders as you walk through the building towards your shuttle. You take the short trip to your flat, now safe-guarded so hard that unless you are family member, Leonard McCoy, Christopher Pike or James Kirk himself, you won’t be able to get in vicinity of 50 metres – and even that is possible only if you know rather complicated series of codes.  
  
When the two of you arrive home, your PADD is making the whistling sound, announcing you have incoming calls. Nyota Uhura. S'chn T'gai Spock. Pavel Andreievich Chekov. Hikaru Sulu. Montgomery Scott. They finally try to talk to you but you tell them – figuratively speaking – to fuck off. You deny all those calls, one after another as they come, and place the callers into blocked contacts. You finish it by messaging the security with request you do not want to be disturbed by anyone, especially by any USS Enterprise crewman. They weren’t interested in talking, in _listening_ , to you before, now you are not interested in talking or listening to them.  
  
Few days later, you can see the Security struggling with group of people who have striking resemblance to your bridge crew, the dark-skinned woman in red uniform with her hair tied in high ponytail is shouting something when she notices you opening the window – you just leave the window open and return back to whatever you were doing before, responding to the comm by one of the security guys, young man of name Johnson, that the instructions you gave them still apply and close the connection sooner before any of your former crew could snatch the comm from Johnson.  
  
You know more than well that ignoring them is an empty victory – but right now, it’s the only victory you got.

**Author's Note:**

> The references used:  
> 1\. Title is inspired by song by The Doors – The End (“This is the End, beautiful friend; this is the end, my only friend, the end…”)  
> 2\. Samuel T. Cogley is actual character from Star Trek: The Original Series. From ‘Court Martial’ episode.  
> 3\. “I’m relieved.” Couldn’t stop myself from using Pike’s line from the movie.  
> 4\. ‘This lad has changed, I calmed down’ is translation of song Shkarim by Valantis. The whole lyrics can be found [here](http://hebrewsongs.com/?song=shkarim).  
> 5\. More info about ‘[rape kits](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rape_kit)’


End file.
